


To Stop A Wedding

by IrregularWriter



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Prompt Fill, Sherlolly - Freeform, Victorian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-30
Updated: 2014-08-10
Packaged: 2018-02-11 02:16:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2049597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrregularWriter/pseuds/IrregularWriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock Holmes stands to lose his best friend and, though he is loathe to admit it, the woman he loves to a lesser man but what will he do to stop it?</p><p>(A prompt fill from this prompt on tumblr -Regency Sherlolly: Sherlock and Molly have been friends for years, but when Tom expresses a desire to marry Molly, Sherlock will do whatever it takes to prevent the marriage from happening.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N - Posting this here because it is looong for a one-shot.

Molly trudged behind Sherlock struggling to keep up with his long strides especially in her heavy bustle and dress.

“Sherlock, wait!” she called, jogging slightly to catch up with the detective.

“Honestly I don’t know why you don’t just wear trousers. Heavy dresses and fancy coats are not the most practical attire when chasing criminals,” he huffed, eyeing her skirts with distaste.

“One, we are not chasing criminals merely looking for clues, and two, I would wear trousers if society allowed me to,” she reasoned.

“You’ve never cared about societies opinion of you before,” he replied cheekily.

“Well, I have to start,” she mumbled, accepting Sherlock’s hand and shuffling awkwardly into the awaiting carriage.

“Then you really shouldn’t be out with an unmarried bachelor in the evening,” Sherlock retorted before tapping the roof of the carriage.

Molly huffed and turned away from him. She really shouldn’t be out late with him especially since she had become engaged just this very morning. However, after Sherlock returned from his lengthy foreign exile she had found herself cast as his assistant – a role she thoroughly enjoyed. Their friendship had flourished ever since a morbid ten-year old girl had been fascinated by the genius teen. It was an unorthodox partnership but it worked and it meant that she had an outlet for all her scientific curiosity. Of course there was the problem of her feelings towards him. She had given him her heart unknowingly many years ago but since helping him with the Moriarty debacle she had learned to curb these feelings at the root and maintain a professional relationship – at least during waking hours.

Her engagement would change things.

Although she did enjoy aiding him in his work she knew she needed to come clean about her situation and the implications it would have on their friendship but not yet, not today. One more case couldn’t hurt and anyway she was interested to see how this one turned out and wasn’t quite ready to throw herself into married life just yet.

“Where are we off to?” she asked politely. Her change in demeanour was noted by the consulting detective but he chose not to mention it – a happy Molly was beneficial to a conducive working environment. 

“Horse and Carriage proprietor, owner of the pocket watch.”

“The one that was left at Baker Street?” Molly asked. 

“Precisely!” he grinned. The game was afoot and Sherlock Holmes could not be happier especially when he had his Molly by his side.

Exactly forty-five minutes later the consulting detective and his assistant were standing on a side lane just outside of a country cottage.

“The journey between Grove Street and Piccadilly usually takes twenty-five minutes. That journey took thirty-five minutes so, where did ten minutes get added on? I’m going to need maps – lots of maps, older maps, all the maps.”

Molly giggled at Sherlock’s eccentric display quietly pushing her fingers back into her gloves.

“You must be hungry. Dinner?” he suggested in what he hoped was a casual manner.

“What?” she blurted out.

“I know a fantastic place just outside Marylebone. Best fish platter for miles and the owner always gives me extra portions.”

“Get him off a murder charge?” she grinned.

“No,” he smiled back, “Helped him stack some boxes.”

They stood for a moment in companionable silence.

“Sherlock?” Molly hummed.

“Hmm?”

“I had fun today,” she stated plainly.

“Me too.”

“I always like helping you.”

Sherlock looked Molly up and down deducing her quickly and easily, “You are hiding something Molly Hooper and I’d rather you just tell me and stop rambling on.”

“I’m engaged,” she said quickly seemingly before she even knew what she was saying.

Sherlock sucked in a breath shaking his head confusedly, “You’re not wearing a ring.”

“I only knew about it this morning. I haven’t actually met him yet,” she confessed.

“That’s why you couldn’t wear trousers.”

“Pardon?”

“You feel like now you have been matched that you have to conform to societies standards and be a proper little lady!”

“Sherlock,” she groaned.

“Which is why you feel you cannot assist me anymore,” he snapped.

You needn’t be a consulting detective to realise that Sherlock was not taking this news well. Molly sighed exasperatedly but really what was she expecting? That he would wish her well and leave her be. She’d long ago given up any dreams that Sherlock would be her knight in shining armour so why couldn’t he let her have her happy ever after?

“Listen Sherlock, I’ve had a lovely day I just can’t – uhm – I just…”

“I suppose congratulations are in order then,” he bit out. Forcing yourself to be happy for the happiness of others was a foreign concept to Sherlock and one he could not quite master. 

“Who is he then?”

“He’s not from around here. Grandad had to make the match since dad passed away and you know how he’s been struggling with the family’s finances. I had to accept Sherlock…”

“But you didn’t want to?” he asked. If Molly heard the hint of hope in his deep baritone she didn’t react, only carrying on in her mumbled explanation.

“He’s a nice man. A normal man. He has a country estate with horses and hunting dogs. His family has promised to buy into the Hooper funeral business. I’ve no idea why I’m telling you this,” she giggled nervously, playing with the space where a ring would soon sit.

Silence hung in the air as her laugh tailed off to nothing. Neither spoke for a very long time, one out of awkwardness and the other out of a feeling he couldn’t quite place. It felt very much like someone had ripped open his chest and plundered his heart. He knew logically that it was sentiment but sentiment was a chemical defect found in the losing side and Sherlock Holmes was never on the losing side. So, in true Holmes fashion, he pushed it down and ignored it. Chalked it up to the adrenaline coursing through his system before carefully placing his features into the stoic mask he wore so well.

“I hope you’ll be very happy Molly Hooper. You deserve it. After all, you always wanted a normal life.”

She looked up at his dark glower with hopeful eyes, “Yes?”

“Yes,” he nodded stiffly, “I’ll go and hurry along that coach, shall I.”

Molly watched him leave with a heavy heart and a troubled mind. Her life had taken an unexpected turn but for the worse or the better she was still to find out.

“Maybe I don’t want a normal life anymore,” she whispered solemnly to herself, her arms wrapped tightly around her corseted waist. It seemed like she would be on her own from now on.


	2. Chapter 2

“Sherlock please, I beg of you, behave tonight,” Mycroft ordered his younger brother.

“I will be on my best behaviour brother dear. After all, the ball is in favour of my latest case,” Sherlock gloated adjusting his tails discreetly.

“I am aware but the guests, or rather a guest, may cause…an incident,” his brother replied tactfully.

“She’s not?” Sherlock started.

“Afraid so. She did aide you with the case, brother. Intelligence in a woman is not uncommon, though it is rarely highly praised.”

“Yes, well, I’d rather it was praised elsewhere,” Sherlock all but growled.

“Just behave,” the elder Holmes warned before swanning off to engage in meaningless small talk with a dignitary Sherlock did not care to remember the name of.

The consulting detective quietly scanned the crowd for any sign of the one woman who could spell disaster for his carefully composed image. Ever since they had parted ways that day he had rarely thought of anyone else – an obsession he was sure was not healthy for a man who definitely did not have feelings for her. He had not consulted with her on any of his experiments since then and would not do so in future, such was her decision of course. It was beneficial that he keep his distance from the petite woman. After all, he was married to his work and she was going to be married to…whatever-his-name-was.

“Come on,” a chipper voice beside him resounded, “You’ll have to make the rounds sometime. Everyone wants the latest story.”

“In a minute,” Sherlock mumbled to John. Now that John had forgiven his friend for the incident that they will never mention again, the balance had been restored between the two males and Sherlock was thankful for it. The army doctor may not be the most observant but he was certainly useful in a crisis.

“Mary’s set a date,” the shorter man said, sipping his champagne reservedly.

“Date for what?” his friend answered absentmindedly.

“Our wedding!” At Sherlock’s confused look he felt the need to clarify, “Mary and I are getting married.”

“Oh of course!”

“Spring wedding, lots of flowers,” his friend carried on, “You will be there won’t you?”

“Weddings – not really my area,” Sherlock claimed.

“You’re just saying that because…”

“Hush!” John was cut off as Sherlock spotted a head of brunette hair making its way around the ballroom.  
Sherlock momentarily forgot how to breathe as he caught sight of the resplendent dress Molly was wearing. It was a mirage of cream, gold and deepest red that offset her complexion beautifully. Her hair was placed gently atop her head in an intricate spiral finished off with scattered jewels and curls.

“Sherlock, best close your mouth she’s on her way over here!” John chastised.

Sherlock just managed to clap his mouth shut in time for Molly to make her usual timid introductions.

“Good evening Sherlock, John,” she smiled at them both in turn.

“Evening Molly,” John replied taking her hand and placing a gentle kiss upon it. 

Sherlock, however, could not tear his gaze away from the man standing in front of him. He was almost a complete mirror image of himself bar perhaps the slightly shorter hair and goofy expression. He was dressed in the same black tails and champagne coloured cravat as the detective himself topped off with shiny black shoes and a gold pocket watch, though of a less expensive brand than his own. The man obviously did not care much for outward shows of wealth although Sherlock was willing to bet that he was responsible for the fine dress Molly was currently wearing. The thought of this man picking out clothes for his Molly set Sherlock’s stomach rumbling in a most unsettling way.

“This is Thomas Grosvenor,” Molly gushed then added after a beat, “My fiancé.”

John extended a hand to grip Thomas’ firmly whilst Sherlock kept his hands determinedly clasped behind his back.

“Hello! I must say it’s an honour to meet you both. Molly speaks very highly of your work,” Tom said, his voice pitched highly enough to grate on Sherlock’s nerves.

“It’s good to finally meet you too!” John enthused, “Isn’t it Sherlock?”

“Yes, of course. Now, if you’ll excuse me my brother is beckoning me over,” the detective excused himself. He would never willingly seek out his brother but being so close to Molly and her fiancé was not conducive to him being on his best behaviour. She was too enticing, tempting and all together…not his.

Sherlock scoffed bitterly shaking his head slightly. Molly’s grandfather had certainly done well in choosing a man that resembled his likeness almost perfectly. It must be a coincidence, he reasoned, but wasn’t his brother always going on about how the universe is rarely so lazy about things such as these? Perhaps it was a conscious decision by her family to prove that she was only interested in Sherlock’s looks and could be swayed by another man very easily. Sherlock did not think Molly to be so shallow.

The detective ended up storming upstairs and outside onto the first floor balcony, away from the assembled masses of the aristocracy. Once there he loosened his cravat and lay it beside a flourishing rose bush sitting proudly in an ornate vase. He did not like such frivolous events, anyway he had lasted long enough to satisfy the British government. The cool night air offered some relief from the stifling ballroom and Molly Hooper’s newly engaged bliss. 

He could not stand to see her on the arm of another man, laughing at the jokes of another man, looking tenderly at another man. Sherlock slammed his fist on the stone railing. Why should he care what Molly Hooper did? A consulting detective did not have time for a relationship. He did not want a relationship. He was a solitary man who enjoyed the company of books and science more than any living being. He definitely did not want to engage in a physical relationship. Too messy, too many shades of grey. No, Sherlock Holmes would remain married to his work and banish all thoughts of a certain woman from his mind. After all, sociopaths don’t have the capacity to love anyone.

Sherlock was about to enter his mind palace to put an end to these troublesome feelings once and for all when a dainty hand on his arm drew his attention away. As soon as his eyes fell on her pretty doe eyes all logical thought drained away leaving only a fierce burning in his gut that threatened to overspill into action.

“Are you ok?” she enquired, caring as always.

“Fine,” he said, straining to keep any emotion far away from his voice.

“Are you sure?” she asked again.

“I’m perfectly fine, Miss Hooper.” 

“You haven’t deduced anything bad about him have you?” she tittered nervously.

Sherlock didn’t answer. He couldn’t. He hadn’t had time to deduce him – he was too caught up in his own emotional dilemma. A sure argument, if there ever was one, for staying away from sentiment.

Molly picked up his cravat and fiddled with the silky fabric letting it slide over her fingers, never once noticing the narrowing of Sherlock’s eyes or the pained expression that crossed his face, “Do you remember when we were twelve at that ball for someone’s engagement, I forget who?”

“Your cousin,” he supplied tersely. He did not want to engage in small talk with her even if she was one of the few who did not bore him and he suspected never would bore him.

“Oh of course,” she said, “And you had to wear a cravat but you hated it so as soon as the clock struck ten you ripped it off and threw it out of the window.”

Sherlock’s lips curved at the edges as he remembered the feeling of elation that had coursed through him as the irritating cravat had fluttered to the ground.

“Your mother was so cross!” Molly added, laughing at her own anecdote.

“I remember,” he grinned back at her, “I think I still have a hand mark on my bottom.”

They both fell into a fit of laughter that ended with Molly wiping tears from her eyes, “I’ve missed this.”

“Missed what?” he asked confused.

“Talking with you, being friends,” Molly shrugged.

“We are still…”

“You haven’t spoken to me in weeks,” she cut in.

Sherlock had the good sense to look sheepish, “I apologise. I hadn’t realised.”

“Why?” she asked, eyes wide and hopeful.

“I...couldn’t,” he answered honestly.

“You couldn’t?”

“I did not take the news of your engagement well.”

“I’m not leaving you Sherlock. Thomas is surprisingly very encouraging of my work and interests although he may not fully understand them. If you need anything you can still have me,” Molly explained, hoping to lighten the situation.

“But I can’t have you can I?” Sherlock stated more than asked.

Molly, oblivious to the double entendre, carried on, “Thomas is very understanding of our professional relationship.”

Sherlock straightened up fully and took in a sobering breath – this was not going to be an easy conversation, “Molly we have been friends for many years and over those years I have come to appreciate you as a dear friend.”

Molly nodded and leaned over the balcony slightly, cravat still in her hands, “I know Sherlock but I was going to get married at some point.”

“You should be marrying me,” the words left Sherlock’s mouth before his brain could register what had happened. For the second time in his life Sherlock Holmes watched as a cravat fluttered to the ground.

“What did you say?” Molly uttered flabbergasted.

“I know that this may shock you but please let me finish before you say anything,” Sherlock waited for her nod of ascent before continuing, “When you told me about your engagement it brought up feelings in me that I thought I had managed to quash in my teen years. I was jealous, angered, I felt I had been cheated and I did not understand why. I thought it best to push you away and forget about it so that I did not have to act on my…feelings. That was the wrong thing to do and I’m sorry if I hurt you. I guarantee that was not my intention.”

Molly opened her mouth to interject but was hushed by Sherlock.

“I thought I had managed to delete these troublesome emotions but seeing you tonight with him brought them all to the surface. The truth is I feel very strongly towards you. I want you but I can’t have you and I know that I should have made my feelings apparent to you earlier but I always believed my work to be paramount. I’m sorry Molly but I find that I cannot be happy for the sake of your happiness.”

Molly looked up at Sherlock with tear-rimmed eyes, “What do you feel for me Sherlock?”

“I love you of course,” he told her truthfully. He did not like wearing his heart on his sleeve but he found that when it came to Molly Hooper he did a lot of things that he did not like doing.

That was the last straw for the petite woman as she broke down in tears, “Oh you stupid man.”

Sherlock was not well versed in these matters but he was fairly sure a crying woman was considered not good.

“If you had said this six months ago everything would be fine but this just complicates things,” she said pithily. 

“I understand,” he muttered, more to himself than her.

Molly slapped a palm to her head, “Do you know how long I’ve wanted you to say that to me?”

The detective’s head snapped up as he realised what Molly was trying to say, “You mean you…”

“Love you too. How could I not?”

“Well, I am…glad.”

“Glad?”

“Delighted, elated any of the above apply,” he grinned, taking a step towards her.

“No don’t come any closer! This doesn’t change anything,” she stated plainly.

“What?” he spluttered.

“Sherlock I am engaged to be married to a lovely man who I think genuinely cares for me.”

“I genuinely care for you,” he argued.

“I know but it’s too late. I can’t end the engagement and throw all of my granddad’s good work back in his face. It would be the end of the Hooper’s good reputation, surely you can understand that?” she retorted.

“Oh please my family could take care of his financial troubles. We are not exactly paupers now are we?”

“Sherlock I just can’t,” she sobbed.

“You love him?” he asked, unsure of whether he wanted to know the answer or not.

There was a pregnant pause before Molly answered slowly, “Yes.”

“You’re lying.”

“I care for him. That’s enough,” she answered firmly.

“Is it really?”

“Yes,” she snapped fiercely, emboldened by the torrent of emotions raging inside her. 

Sherlock growled as he pulled Molly towards him and wrapped his arms around her petite form. His lips clashed with hers desperately in a kiss that lacked finesse but definitely not passion. It quite literally took Molly’s breath away and she sincerely wished it hadn’t. 

“I’m sorry Sherlock. I’m really very sorry,” she gushed as she fled from the balcony, her mind reeling tears falling freely down her face. If she was lucky she would make it to the bathroom before being seen, if not, rumour would have it that she had just received note of a sudden familial death.

Sherlock, for his part, watched her go with the crestfallen look of someone who had just lost the most precious thing in their life. He was brought out of his stupor by the sound of a slow clap emanating from behind him.

“Well done brother mine,” Mycroft congratulated sarcastically.

“How long have you been there?” Sherlock snarled not bothering to turn around. His eyes were stinging and he suspected that any sudden movement would dislodge the tears threatening to make their way down his cheeks.

“Long enough.”

“Come to gloat?”

Mycroft hummed and came to stand beside his brother, staring at the space Miss Hooper had so recently vacated, “Surprisingly no. I pity you. You may have just lost your one chance at being with a woman who actually loves you.”

Sherlock was silent.

“Are you going to do something about it?” his brother asked.

“What can I do? She’s made her decision,” he answered solemnly. 

“Oh I wouldn’t be so sure. I normally do not encourage chasing your heart’s dream but it has been pointed out to me that Miss Hooper seems to be your ‘perfect match’. She’ll be having second thoughts now. The game is on Sherlock.”

Sherlock turned to face his pesky elder brother, eyebrow raised sceptically, “You think I should chase her. Think of the scandal Mycroft. Surely it would ruin our family’s reputation to have your younger brother running around after an engaged woman?”

“I would see you happy brother,” Mycroft answered, “That and mother is terribly fond of her.”

Sherlock smirked and blew out a puff of air, “It seems Molly Hooper is an expert at capturing hearts.”

The elder Holmes wrinkled his nose in disgust, “Save the sentimental talk for her. Act quickly though, her grandfather tells me she’s getting married in a few weeks.”

Sherlock stared at his brother in utter bewilderment. This was not the Mycroft he was used to shouting at, or stealing things from. This Mycroft seemed to be an image of the elder brother he had always craved, “I’ll take your advice this once.”

“Good,” Mycroft smiled slightly. He did enjoy being heard.

“However, you must take mine.”

Mycroft raised a slender eyebrow at his brother.

“Stay off the champagne – it goes straight to your head,” Sherlock grinned, enjoying the upper hand greatly.

Mycroft rolled his eyes and decided now was as good a time as any to make his exit from the balcony of emotional epiphanies but not without having the last word, “Oh and Sherlock, pick up that cravat on your way out.”


	3. Chapter 3

Molly Hooper lay in her bed on the eve of her wedding day thinking about a man so very different from her intended. She hadn’t seen much of Sherlock since that hideous incident on the balcony and had tried to ‘delete’ him from her mind: it’s a shame her heart had other ideas. She knew that she loved him, had known for a while really, but since it was obviously unrequited she had been able to dampen these feelings and concentrate on her work and her soon-to-be husband. However, now that the great consulting detective had decided to unveil his feelings for her it was much harder to think about anything or anyone else. Still, she was British and would maintain a stiff upper lip about this whole debacle, even if she knew in her heart of hearts that the decision she had made that night was quite possibly one of the stupidest things she’d ever done. Molly has to stop herself before gloomy thoughts turned into murky tears and try to focus on the positives, as was her cheery nature. After all, Thomas was a lovely man.

A keen horse breeder and lover of agriculture he had taken over the family business when he was just fifteen years old after a tragic accident killed both of his parents, their shared orphan background had often been a talking point in their early courtship. He was a man who would go out of his way to please her and was always most attentive to her emotional state. Sometimes, Molly thought idly, too attentive. He was amorous and, dare she say it, clingy. He was never farther than a few steps from her being and always offering her flowers, or biscuits, or some other trivial gift. She had found herself on more than one occasion wishing for blue eyes and hard edges where she found only green eyes and a soft touch.

No, Molly Hooper did not want to marry her fiancé but she had made her decision and she was going to stick to it. She had spent too long pining for that impossible man and she couldn’t do it any longer. Besides she was sure she would have a perfectly normal (read boring) married life. A life every society madam could only hope for.

Just as she was drifting off to sleep a tap on her bedroom window roused her. She glanced over her shoulder at the window and waited for another noise. Must have been a stray raindrop or leaf, she reasoned and snuggled back under her covers.

A second later she was awoken again by another thud, this one harder than the last. Molly huffed and got up out of her cosy bed, quickly throwing on her night gown over her flimsy night dress, and shuffled cautiously over to her window. Lit only by the light of the moon she peered out of the glass struggling to make out anything but trees and the occasional fountain. She quickly grabbed an oil lamp from her desk and lit it in one swift move before another thump hit the window and a voice called out to her, “Molly!”

Her heart thumped as she sucked in a breath. Why was he here? He should not be here. This was not proper. Molly’s mind was racing ten to the dozen as more pebbles pelted the glass. With great trepidation she latched open her window and poked her head out only to be greeted with the sight of a very windswept Sherlock Holmes grinning up at her. He was quite rightly breath-taking having chosen his tight trousers and deep plum shirt with extra care – he knew of their effect on certain woman.

“Ah Molly finally!” he shouted up, smiling invitingly.

“What are you doing here?” she asked hurriedly, “And keep your voice down!”

“Are you not pleased to see me?” he asked affronted.

“You are insufferable Sherlock Holmes,” she said moving back into her room slightly. If he was going to be petulant then she was not going to entertain him for another moment.

“Wait!” he stopped her with a shout.

“What do you want?” she asked impatiently.

“An assistant,” he answered honestly.

“What?”

“There’s been a murder and I wondered, if perhaps for one last time before you become a married woman, if you would accompany me to the crime scene?” he suggested, calmly clasping his hands behind his back.

Molly thought about his proposition for exactly three seconds before deciding to accept. This could be her last chance to enjoy the company of Sherlock Holmes as an unmatched woman and goodness help her is she was going to pass it up. She would not admit it but she had missed him, missed the thrill of adventure and danger that went hand in hand with being a consulting detective’s assistant.

“Alright but I have to be back before morning,” Molly smiled warmly down at him.

“Your wish is my command,” he bowed exaggeratedly, a move so un-Sherlock like that it made her peal with laughter.

“I have to get changed first.”

“Wear trousers. Much more practical,” he teased as Molly shut her window. His plan was playing out perfectly. The charming man had wooed the woman from her keep, however, he suspected the next part would not go down as well.

Molly made her way almost silently through the halls of the country residence she was soon to be lady of having changed into her well used trousers and riding coat combination. She wedged open the door to the kitchens and scrambled out along the side of the house to where she was sure Sherlock would be waiting. 

“Sherlock,” she whispered to the darkness. In the distance a bush rustled, “Sherlock this is not funny just come out or I swear I’ll go back inside!”

“I’m sorry Molly,” his deep baritone resounded from behind her.

“What for?” she asked, turning around sharply.

“This,” he said as a damp cloth made contact with Molly’s face. In less than a minute she was out cold and held firmly against his body. Sherlock Holmes rode away as fast as he could from the daunting country house on a stolen horse with a stolen bride.

When Molly regained consciousness she was not in her own bed. This was the first thing she noticed. Second, was that there was someone lying beside her and it wasn’t her little tabby cat Toby. She turned her head slightly, stray ebony curls gracing her forehead as she did so, only to catch sight of two sparkling blue eyes staring straight at her.

“Good you’re awake,” Sherlock mumbled, shifting his weight away from her slightly, “I was starting to worry I’d gotten the dosage wrong.”

“Dosage?” she asked sleepily. A warm glow encompassed the cosy room as she tried to piece together the events that had led her to…not-her-bedroom.

“I had to do something Molly. I couldn’t just let you marry that oaf,” he protested strongly.

At the word ‘marry’ everything seemed to click into place for Molly. Today was her wedding day! She was getting married in, she estimated, a few hours at most and she had no idea where she was. The only thing she knew for certain was that her current situation was directly linked to the man lying next to her grinning smugly to himself. She shoved at him angrily sending him backwards off the bed as she herself made for the door. Who did Sherlock Holmes think he was? Kidnapping was a punishable crime and she was going to be sure to make him pay – after she attended her own wedding of course.

However Sherlock’s agile body was quick on the rebound and he was soon on his feet and blocking Molly’s exit, “Molly please think rationally.”

“Rationally? You kidnapped me and brought me to goodness knows where…”

“It’s a charming little country inn just outside of London…”

“I don’t care Sherlock! It’s my wedding day and I am not where my wedding is,” she shouted, pounding his chest angrily.

“You don’t need to be there,” he protested, restraining her wrists gently.

“Of course I do it’s my wedding!”

“You shouldn’t be getting married!” Sherlock yelled.

“Yes I should! It’s all arranged!”

“You don’t need to go through with it,” he argued back.

“Let me past!” she growled angrily.

“You needn’t marry him,” he spat venomously. This was not going as smoothly as he hoped. He cursed himself for not factoring in how utterly stubborn Molly Hooper could be when she wanted to.

“And why not Sherlock? Because you all of a sudden have developed feelings and decided that you want me to yourself?” she shrieked back, pulling her wrists from Sherlock’s grasp.

“Precisely.”

The room fell silent as they both took a breath – Molly shakily, Sherlock angrily. A singular bird sang its tuneful song as Molly deposited herself heavily on the edge of the bed. She imagined the scene at Thomas’ country house when they realised she wasn’t there. Her granddad would surely be worried about her, Thomas would be rightfully angry and she could only imagine the gossiping of the assembled guests. She cradled her head in her hands thinking about her sorry situation. Could she really go back and face them all after this? She was not a meek woman but she doubted that she would have the courage to explain the situation to those people that mattered. In a way this was everything she’d ever wanted but it just wasn’t the right time – was it?

“I do love you Molly,” Sherlock said, breaking the silence in the room tentatively.

“I know,” she mumbled in reply, “You just told me too late.”

“You’re not married yet. The way I see it there is still time to change things,” he suggested coming to sit beside her.

“I have to marry him Sherlock he…”

“Save the explanation,” he cut in, “You told me before, remember? I couldn’t care less about what people think of me but I am aware that you would not want to disappoint your grandfather. I should think he would come round to the idea once we announced our engagement formally.”

Molly sighed and pursed her lips in thought, “And what about Thomas?” she asked, humouring his imagined future.

“Who cares?” he shrugged.

“I care.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes, “I suppose we could buy him off.”

Molly shook her head, “He doesn’t care for money.”

“Mycroft could find him another match then. I’m sure the British Government has sufficient access to and influence over families of eligible woman,” he reasoned.

“Ok,” she conceded, “And what would happen after our engagement was announced?”

“We would get married of course.”

“When?”

“As soon as possible.”

“Where?”

“My parent’s country house. There is a chapel not far from there if you wanted a traditional wedding.” 

“And if I didn’t?” she enquired, jostling his arm lightly.

“There is a large enough garden for a marquee,” he smiled.

“And after we were married?”

“I’ll buy us our own estate with horses and land and plenty of rooms for our children.”

“Children?” she gasped.

“I was thinking three. Two boys and a little girl. The only thing I ask is that we give them normal names.”

“You’ve really thought this through haven’t you?” Molly examined, suddenly feeling a shift in her before resolute decision. 

“I have rarely thought of anything else,” he answered truthfully, staring into her wide doe eyes, “You have to understand that this is not a passing fancy Molly. I want to marry you, and give you children, and make you happy. I want to retire to the country to keep bees with you by my side. I would not have kidnapped you if I did not think that you were making the wrong decision. I hope that in time you can come to forgive me and accept my proposal.”

“Oh Sherlock,” she breathed, “I knew I was making the wrong decision. I love you. I always have I just…I wanted to get married and I thought you didn’t. You always said you were married to your work. Even when you confessed your feelings I still thought that I’d somehow be better off with a man who couldn’t hold a candle to you. I was silly and juvenile and I should’ve listened to my heart and not my head. Can you forgive me?”

“Always,” he sighed happily, gripping her hand in his.

“Then yes, I will marry you,” she grinned.

“I promise to make you the happiest woman alive,” he said bringing both of her hands to his lips.

“I’ll have to tell grandfather, and Thomas and everyone,” her face fell as she realised the impact of her changed decision.

“Would you like to know a secret?”

“Yes?” she smirked, eyebrow quirked.

“Your grandfather already knows. I asked his permission before I took you. He is currently making excuses to, I imagine, a very disgruntled ex-fiancé of yours. I promised to help him with his business in return for your hand in marriage,” Sherlock explained, looking for all intents and purposes like the cat who got the cream.

“You are joking?” Molly spluttered in disbelief.

“No. I know of your love for societal conventions and I didn’t really want to disgrace your name. Having two fiancés at the same time would be terribly scandalous,” he teased enjoying the growing grin on his soon to be wife’s face.

“I love you,” Molly squealed as she all but launched herself at Sherlock.

“I should hope so I just stopped your wedding for you,” he mumbled into her ear.

“And I can’t thank you enough!” she smiled pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek, a mere promise of what was to come.

When Sherlock Holmes did retire to the country to keep bees it was with a wife, a cat, four children and seven grandchildren, and he could honestly say that kidnapping his wife before her wedding was the best decision he ever made.


End file.
